On the way out to run some errands last night, hubby and I saw two men standing at the intersection down the hill holding a cross. I’ve seen a number of such people in my life carrying a cross as a witness tool and symbol of their Christianity. I had not, however, ever before seen a cross on wheels.

It was a big wooden cross, about 6 feet tall made of sturdy, rugged lumber with what looked like children’s training wheels attached. My first thought was, “how bizarre!” followed quickly by “how lazy!” chastising myself quickly with “how judgmental, Karen!” But I do have to say that it did seem a bit odd. The whole point of carrying a cross was (I thought) to exemplify how Christ suffered on the cross to destroy the great sin divide between us and God. And since last night, when I’ve tried to envision that long walk to Calvary, I find myself desperately trying to mentally remove two metal wheels from that vision.

My husband, ever the pragmatic, said, “If I was going to push a wheeled cross around, I think I’d make the wheels detachable so I could at least hide them.”

So I tried to think deeply about how it could be a symbol of how as disciples of Christ we are called into training to be like Him. In essence, He is the perfect Man, we are little men with training wheels. But, no, I still just think it was odd.